Tag Archives: stick boy

My idea of doing just that for one game only, thought up when I was a kid and kept alive all these years because I’m an idiot, is now dead. This team doesn’t deserve my stick boy skills.

I don’t want to ride around as a passenger on the Zamboni or be a flag boy anymore either, regardless of the fact that these things seem to be reserved for kids. I always thought the kid thing was unfair and a slap in the face to old bastards like me.

Molson beer sucks, although it’s neither here nor there because I’ve given up drinking. But if I still drank, it wouldn’t be Molson. If I walked in to a bar and they only served Molson, I say gimme some prune juice, it’ll do the same job.

The Bell Centre sucks too, and I wouldn’t care if it sank into one of Montreal’s medium size sinkholes. There’s no memories there, maybe just the 2010 postseason, and it happened mainly because of a Slovak goaltender named Jaroslav Halak.

The Bell rocked that spring. But so would’ve the parking lot of Mundell’s Funeral Home in Orillia if the games were played there.

I’d like to say I wouldn’t care if it burned to the ground but concrete doesn’t burn well. And I’d hate to see Jean Beliveau’s old seat get torched.

And people say, oh, the wonderful Bell Centre, soaked in atmosphere! We’re looking at an ordinary rink like all the other ordinary rinks in the league, where fans for the most part sit on their hands, empty their wallets, and put up with music so loud that people in Europe shut their windows.

Have you been to the Bell Centre? If you have, you’ve probably noticed all the old photographs lining the walls in the corridors.

Guess what, kids. Those pictures are cheap photocopies. The originals, hung with pride at the mighty Forum, were auctioned off to collectors with deep pockets. There’s even some originals left if you’re interested. Big beauties sold by Classic Auctions, ready to be hung in man caves instead of the Bell Centre where they belong.

Ownership was too freaking cheap to use the originals from the Forum. Another kick in the groin to passionate fans.

Management of course sucks. Coach Michel Therrien needs to steal a propaganda poster from a North Korean hotel, and the only thing I can think of that Marc Bergevin has done well was buy out Scott Gomez.

I was proud of Bergevin that day. But you or I could’ve bought out Scott Gomez with Molson money too, so it’s not that big a deal I guess.

And I know I’ve shown the letter below a half dozen times or so, but it’s sort of related to the story and maybe some of you haven’t seen it. So I’m just going ahead and posting it because I don’t care.

And this was centre ice at the Forum, before the league mandated that all centre ice circles have the rink name wrapped around the circle to remind us where we are in case we forget.

On Tuesday, July 21, much of Powell River will be experiencing a scheduled BC Hydro power outage from 8 a.m to 6 p.m.

This is the notice we all got, and which has sent ripples of fear throughout.

An apocalypse. Total darkness, except that it’ll be during the day. Warm beer kegs, closed bars, thawed TV dinners, dripping ice cube trays, melted popsicles. No internet or television. For ten full hours we won’t even know what Donald Trump has said next.

But don’t worry about me. Unless you want to, of course.

Because of this power outage, I’d like to direct this to the Montreal Canadiens front office. If you try to email me about the stick boy job during these blacked-out hours on the 21st, I won’t get it because I’ll be cut off from the rest of civilization. The way pioneers were back in the 1980s, except they had TV then.

The best thing to do is phone. Or email me the next day. Or write me a letter like Sam did (except for the saying no part).

Canadiens GM Marc Bergevin met with the press on Monday and didn’t say a lot but mentioned the core players are maturing but the team in general isn’t mature yet like Chicago and Los Angeles are.

He said there will be more ups and downs, but the team is well on track.

Nice to hear. And we already knew all that. Ups and downs, on track, good core players.

He said Dale Weise was allowed to return and play after getting thumped by John Moore because all the tests looked to be normal, and it wasn’t until the next day that they realized he was concussed.

He looked pretty concussed to me on the TV screen. Wobbly and goofy, just like George Parros, Travis Moen, and Michael Bournival looked when they got clocked. PK had to give him a bear hug to hold him up.

If the test machines said he was fine, I’d be looking to buy new test machines. If the doctors and trainers said he was fine, I think Weise paid them off.

One of the guys Bergevin did single out as playing hard was Brian Gionta, which must be some sort of sneaky ploy. Make Gionta feel wanted and want to stay, and then cut the salary in half. Or something like that.

He played hard, he just didn’t make much of an impact. I’d rather have an impact guy. Put me in a uniform and I’d play hard too. Harder than anybody. I wouldn’t get anything done and I might fall down a lot, but I’d play hard.

For me though, it’s much different about Gionta. I think either Gionta should go, or if he stays it’s for a bargain rate and the captain’s ‘C’ comes off.

Why do I want the ‘C’ off? I don’t even know the guy. Maybe he’s a great captain. I don’t care about that. I don’t want a non-productive wee little guy leading my team.

If I’m going to have a small captain that I can be proud of, I want one like 5’7 Henri Richard or 5’7 Yvon Cournoyer. Guys who play with burning fire and also produce.

Otherwise, I want a bigger captain. Crazy eh?

Really though, at this stage of the game, I think the one big change I’d make sooner than later would be the announcing of the new assistant to the assistant to Head Equipment Manager Pierre Gervais.

Still waiting by the phone for the stick boy thing. Have also heard nothing about keeping the players’ wives comfortable, being a flag kid, becoming owner, and riding shotgun on the zamboni.

Maybe this will work…

You might have seen the Habs dads on TV when the Canadiens travelled to Minnesota and Colorado recently, and 24CH recently showed a few minutes of them too.

The dads get to go on the road with their sons from time to time, compliments of the Canadiens organization, but alas, sometimes dads can’t go.

Thus…..

I’ll be a fill-in dad for a player whose real dad can’t make it!

I’ve got dad experience. I’ll make sure he gets to the rink on time. I’ll tie up his skates if he wants. And of course after the game I’ll head to the bar so I don’t embarrass him in front of his friends.

In next year’s NHL Entry Draft, can I be one of the little kids that goes up on stage? I was turned down as stick boy and then flag boy, so I’m asking nicely if I can now be draft boy.

Oh, you say you have to be the owner’s son or something? Crap, it’s a big stage and there’s room enough for me too. That’s a lousy excuse. Just kick one of the suits off.

And what has the owner’s son ever done? Has he ever spent thousands of dollars on Molson beer? Does he own a bottle of Pit Lepine Froz-Ex? Has he even heard of Sprague Cleghorn? Hah, I thought not. And he’s up there being a big shot.

Please give me a chance. I’m fairly good at shaking hands, smiling for the camera, and looking kind of goofy, which is what the job calls for, doesn’t it?

You were served your cold quarts of beer by middle-aged men in white shirts, at plain tables with ashtrays and cigarette burns, with framed artwork of different Canadiens’ players lining the walls around you. A thick haze of smoke lingered in the air, and people huddled at tables and talked and solved world problems.

Except for the pictures on the walls, it could’ve been just another plain and slightly rundown beer parlour in any town or city, filled mostly with men who took their drinking and hockey talk seriously. But of course it wasn’t just any old tavern. It was Toe Blake Tavern, where many went before the short walk to the Forum to see the big game.

I’ve read that Toe Blake himself would come in often, although it was never when I was there. It’s too bad I missed him. I could’ve said, “Toe, Sam says I can’t be stick boy. What’s up with that?”

Now that my back is on the mend (I think), I’m about to begin serious workouts in preparation for hockey season and a possible spot on the 2012 Olympic gymnastic team.

I think you’ll be very proud of me.

I’m now ordering the much heavier pint glass instead of the smaller variety to give my arms and shoulders a bigger workout. The constant lifting is crucial for when I’m carrying sticks, or working on those rings in gymnastics. I think exercising the shoulders is probably good for a gymnast but it might not really matter for a stick boy, unless I have to pick up someone who may had fallen over the boards and crashed into my sticks.

I switch hands with every pint, thus giving equal time to both arms. I don’t know if other gymnasts and stick boys utilize this method, and in fact, maybe I shouldn’t even be saying anything.

I’ve also made a point of grabbing a broom when I pass by one, pretending it’s a stick that I must quickly hand over the boards. This is giving me the edge, I believe, because I think no other stick boy has ever done the broom practicing. And anyway, what else is a broom good for?